


A Force Unnamed

by Nerdlinger1



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, My First Smut, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rape Fantasy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdlinger1/pseuds/Nerdlinger1
Summary: "He’ll never touch me," she thought. Rightly so. If he ever did, it would not be of her choosing. "He would have to force me," she thought. Then she had another thought: What if he did? What if he were to attempt to force himself on her? He would never earn her affection, try though he might, so his only chance would be if she were somehow unable to stop him.Is that a thing he could do?This is how he would do it, she thought. She sensed him advance on her.





	A Force Unnamed

Rey was exhausted.

She’d been working her ass off all day for the Resistance, training, repairing, hauling, lifting, you name it. She had given so much of herself to the cause today, and now she just needed to relax.

Rey flopped down onto her modest mattress and kicked off her boots. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She’d been so focused on work for so long, she just wanted to think about _anything_ else.

That’s when she pictured his face. Rey felt a stab of shame that, for relaxation purposes, her mind went to the one thing she was supposed to be the most tense about: her enemy. She couldn’t deny that she found him physically attractive, but she didn’t want to believe that she could actually _want_ him. To want someone so totally wrong for her. She would never allow that. He would never have her permission to touch her like that.

As she pictured his face, she could almost feel his brown eyes piercing into her soul. His gaze was penetrating, mesmerizing. There was so much temptation to look into those eyes and try and suss out what thoughts lie behind them. But that was a trap. His eyes were a siren song that, if you allowed yourself to listen, would draw you in and enslave your mind.

She tried to push the images out of her head.

Frustrated, she turned out the light in her room and hoped she could will herself to fall asleep. Bad idea. The lack of visual stimuli made it impossible _not_ to picture his face. She could see him standing in front of her, staring. She imagined herself looking away from him, trying her best to shut him out.

 _He’ll never touch me,_ she thought. Rightly so. If he ever did, it would not be of her choosing. _He would have to force me,_ she thought. Then she had another thought: _What if he did?_ What if he were to attempt to force himself on her? He would never earn her affection, try though he might, so his only chance would be if she were somehow unable to stop him.

Is that a thing he could do?

In her mind’s eye, she was still looking away from him, but she knew his hand was raised and she could feel her body had gone rigid. He was using the Force to hold her still. _This is how he would do it,_ she thought. She sensed him advance on her.

Her body shook in place as her clothing was forcefully removed. She wasn’t looking at him, but she could still picture it all. He had ripped away her clothing and was slowly removing his gloves.

Before she realized what she was doing, Rey felt her pubic hair brushing against the palm of her hand. As she lay in the dark picturing something she told herself she didn’t want, would never want, her hand had subconsciously slipped into her panties so she could touch herself.

 _This is wrong,_ she thought. But she didn’t stop herself from imagining it.

Her dream self had gone from standing to laying down, somehow skipping over the part where he had gotten her onto her back. He was pushing her knees apart and she could feel his hot breath on her thighs. Gradually, the warm puffs of air moved closer to center as he took in the sight of her.

Her eyes were clamped shut, both in her body and in her mind, but her attention was on him, nonetheless. As she lay there, experiencing him take her in, she felt his hands on her thighs and his tongue on the soft flesh of her labia.

Her hand inside her panties was moist. She moved her fingers over and around her lips, and in her mind, he was suckling them, massaging them with his teeth as he tasted her.

Rey pinched and rolled her skin between her fingers, imagining him gently chewing on her. She could feel his breath alternate between warm and cool across her delicate folds as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, evenly, as he massaged and gnawed on her.

After a time, his tongue delved deeper, and began exploring her inner folds. It probed around her clit, feeling its way along her swollen flesh, making her shiver. Once he had felt his way from corner to corner, effectively mapping the area in his mind, every curve committed to memory, he recentered his efforts and began sucking on her clit.

Rey gasped. The line between dream and reality was so blurred at this point that she honestly wasn’t sure if she had imagined that gasp or if it had actually escaped her. She didn’t care. She wanted back into her dream, so she tried to forget that there was even a difference between it and reality.

As he slipped a finger inside of her, her hips bucked, and she realized she was no longer frozen in place. At some point, she didn’t know when, he had released his hold on her. That she hadn’t retreated from him was entirely on her.

As his finger explored the walls of her cunt, his other hand reached up to possess her breast. Pawing and pinching, he grabbed at her. Down lower, he slipped a second finger inside of her. Then a third.

She could feel herself approaching climax. Whatever he was doing to her, she didn’t want it to stop. At this point, if he pulled away, she would have begged him to return to her. It had begun with him taking. Now she was giving. Pleading, even.

His teeth and tongue continued their ministrations on her clitoris, but the hand that had been working at her breast slid down lower. She was surprised when it didn’t stop as it crossed the threshold of her pussy. Instead, he placed it on his cock and began stroking himself. Whatever had become of his clothing, she didn’t know. She chalked it up to the convenience of fantasy.

As his fingers had been thrusting at her insides, her tight pussy had become more and more accommodating, clenching around him even as it drew him in. Emboldened by the encouraging undulations of the muscles within, he pulled back momentarily, only to thrust the whole of his fist inside her.

She screamed—she hoped, only in her head. The cord binding her to reality had become thin and loose, but in these moments of over-the-edge ecstasy, her practical worries that whatever she was doing in her mind might make itself noticed in the waking world caused that cord to reverberate, reminding her that what was happening _was_ only in her mind.

She put those thoughts aside, hoping beyond hope that this moment remain uninterrupted by well-meaning Resistance fighters. She plunged back into fantasy. His fist opening and closing inside her. His mouth lapping at her cunt.

Just when she thought she might burst at the seams, he pulled his hand out from inside her. For a fleeting second, she was disappointed that he might just abandon her there, on the precipice of orgasm, but those fears were shattered as he slipped a finger inside her ass, his tongue having taken over the duty inside her pussy.

She came apart then. Her orgasm rocked her soul, and she knew she had to be spurting all over his face. He didn’t stop, pull away, or hesitate for even a second. Whatever she was doing to him, he didn’t seem to mind. Without fear or shame, she rode her climax for several more seconds as he drank her in.

As she began to come down, intoxicated and heaving with release, she felt his breath on her face. His moist hand, that which had entered her and tested her very limits, was on her breast now, smearing her juices all over her as it kneaded the soft flesh of her tits.

Without preamble, he thrust into her. Grunting low with each motion of his hips, he plunged in and out of her with reckless abandon. He was fucking her, and in spite of his massive hand having occupied her insides only moment ago, she still managed to feel full to capacity. The pressure on her clit remained a constant rhythm of delicious friction. She knew she was going to come again.

His grunting had grown louder and she could smell herself on his face. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and so she could know her own taste. Sucking air in through her mouth, she filled her lungs, only to let it back out as she moaned into his mouth.

Their tongues danced, and her hands explored. However much longer this delight would last, she didn’t know. She prayed that once it ended, as it inevitably would, she would remember how he felt. She threaded her fingers through his hair, down his neck, and along his spine. She ravaged him, tracing the contours of his upper body until she felt she knew his every line, every scar, every detail.

He was about to come, she could tell. Her own release was imminent. As the walls of her pussy clenched around him, her hands clutching at his ass to possess him, he pulled his tongue out of her mouth and hovered over her ear, not stopping or slowing down as he relentlessly pounded into her.

“Say my name.”

Her eyes popped open, though the intensity of what she was feeling did not abate. Her point of view had somehow shifted from first person to third, as she hovered above herself, watching herself feel what she was feeling. She could see herself, wet and writhing, looking absolutely destroyed, and pinned under and invisible weight that had taken over her body and carved itself into her soul.

“Say my name,” she heard again, and with that, she was back in her body. Not her real body, not the one that was sore and exhausted from working itself to the bone fighting the First Order. Her fantasy. The world that had somehow come to feel more real and wonderful to her than the one she had inhabited what felt like a lifetime ago.

She dug her fingernails into his back and clenched her eyes tight, holding her breath as her orgasm approached.

“Say my name,” he breathed into her ear once more.

A piece of her knew that her orgasm would never come if she failed to comply. She wanted to comply. She _needed_ to comply. She struggled to make her lips and vocal cords submit.

“Say my name…”

Gritting her teeth, she forced air out of her lungs and through her larynx. She didn’t so much as say his name as she did bellow it. Once it came out that first time, the floodgates had been breached, and it came out again, and again, and again, as he thrust deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

Finally, the two of them unraveled. Their release spilled out of them for what felt like an eternity. Rey didn’t know if she would be able to make it out the other side in one piece. In this moment, she simply didn't care. If she died here, she would die content.

As her lungs finally emptied and she could cry his name no longer, the surreal euphoria began to fade away, and she became aware of her limbs once more. She sucked in lungfuls of air, gasping and perspiring. She attempted to engage the muscles in her legs and arms, but doing so felt like trying to grab a cloud of vapor—she just couldn’t find purchase.

With tremendous effort, she was eventually able to lift a hand to her forehead to wipe the sweat from her brow. Doing so, she realized her hand should have passed right through his head. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt herself panic. Popping her eyes open, she hoped she would find him there, but he was gone.

Looking around revealed nothing outside of her tiny room and its dark confines. Furiously, she whipped her arm out to reach for her bedside lamp, igniting it and peering around. It was just her room. Just as it should be. The fantasy space she had been occupying was gone, and there was no trace of it left. The only evidence that anything whatsoever had happened was the perspiration on her clothing, and the juices on her mattress and hand, still rammed into her panties.

 

In the days and nights that would follow, Rey would try to recreate the fantasy that had consumed her. She would try, and she would fail. She remembered every detail, every shudder, every caress. However, though she could picture it all just as it had occurred, she could not break the fourth wall that would allow her to experience it again as a participant rather than as an observer. Virtually every aspect of the encounter had seared itself into her memory. Every detail, that is, except for one, and she knew this was the key to reliving her experience.

She could not remember what she had called him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! That's my first real smut, right there, and only my second fanfiction ever. I'd love to hear what you think of this. Do I have a future in smut writing? How could I *improve* my smut? Please comment!
> 
> If you're interested in checking out something I did that has actual plot, please check out "Star Wars: The Resolve Into Gray". 100,000+ words of plotty, Reylo-y goodness. It's rated Mature, but it's not super graphic. I was mainly interested in telling what I thought was a compelling story. :)
> 
> Thanks for your time!


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